Resurgam
by FetlifeAtTwilight
Summary: Carlisle doesn't want to tell Esme about the relief he needs so very badly, but he will anyway because there's just no other way for him to get it…at least not yet. Fetlife At Twilight Contest entry.


**Pairing if applicable: **Carlisle and Esme**  
>Title: <strong>Resurgam (Translation: I shall rise again)**  
>Disclaimer:<strong> I don't own any of this except the pervy deliciousness.**  
>Brief Summary:<strong> Carlisle doesn't want to tell Esme about the relief he needs so very badly, but he will anyway because there's just no other way for him to get it…at least not yet.

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He sat in his car, dreading walking into the house. He was going to have to tell her, and there was no way he could know how she would react.

The tie came loose around his neck. The top two buttons opened. He looked down at his lap at the slight bulge and groaned in agony. This would not make her happy.

When he could stall no longer, he grabbed his briefcase and headed into their home.

"Is that my good boy I hear coming in the door?" The voice came from somewhere in the direction of the kitchen as he stopped in the foyer and placed his briefcase on the floor and began removing his clothes. He wasn't allowed to wear any of them in the house.

"Not exactly," he called back when he had stripped down to nothing but the sheer briefs she allowed him. They had a thin strip of elastic that nestled his traitorous cock, framing it perfectly in the see-through fabric. Looking down at it he realized the damn thing still hadn't deflated and was rising even more at the thought of him standing there waiting for her to see him like this.

"Fucking go away!" he whispered to it, but it ignored him completely and continued to cry its glossy tears from the lone eye that stared straight up at him.

"What do you mean _not exactly_, baby?" she asked as she rounded the corner but then let out a small screech when she saw the state of him. "What do you think you're doing?" she demanded, hands on hips.

Hanging his head in shame, he said, "I'm so sorry, Esme. I just can't make it go away. I've tried everything."

"You didn't touch it did you? Tell me the truth! Did you play with your nasty little cock when it got all hard today?" He didn't have to look to know that her face held a scowl and her eyes, an accusation.

"No, I didn't. I promise."

Walking closer to him, she lifted his chin with a single red-tipped finger and looked into his eyes for a long moment before she accepted the truth in them. "Very well. That's a good boy not touching yourself. Only nasty little boys go playing with their weewees. Cocks were made for pleasing women and nothing else."

"Yes. Of course," he agreed, but that did nothing for his straining flesh and the growing wet spot in the tiny blue briefs.

"Alright, well, come now. Let's check the calendar and see how close we are to our goal."

But he didn't need the calendar. He knew exactly, could recall with perfect clarity every single day of his semi-self-imposed chastity. Truthfully it was his idea first, but he hadn't anticipated the gusto with which she would grab onto the idea nor the lengths she would go to help him accomplish his goal. She was ruthless and cold and tortured him relentlessly and – God help him – every second of it made him hard as fucking marble.

She led him by the hand to the calendar hanging on the wall with the large blue numbers written in for every day he managed not to have an orgasm. He watched as she took the sharpie and wrote a big seven and two in today's square. He was so close and yet so far away from his goal – ninety days.

Ninety days of erections without satisfaction. Ninety days of pleasing her and being teased by her and allowed to get so hard he thought he'd burst but then being forced backward down that mountain without being allowed to fall over the edge.

GOD! It was excruiating, and sometimes he questioned his sanity. Only a crazy man would put himself in this position.

"Come now, let me help you." She led him over to the couch and sat in her perfectly pressed pencil skirt, high heels, pearls, and silk blouse, looking for all the world like she was the wife of the president instead of a simple housewife.

He stood in front of her and gingerly lowered the briefs, pulling them out and away from his cock so as to avoid stimulating it further. As it was he was so close to coming all over her pretty face now. And THAT would NOT go over well at all.

"Mmm hmm," she nodded her head. "Are you ready, baby?" she asked.

FUCKING HELL NO! he screamed in his head, but all that came out of his mouth was a pathetic whimper as he bit his lip until he tasted the blood in his mouth and nodded his ascent.

He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the long red fingernail come up and inflict the torture he knew was coming. He let out a strangled cry as she ran it up the length of the underside of him from base to tip, and he felt the clear sticky liquid leak out as his cock seized upon contact. It made her next action all the worse.

Completely devoid of mercy she used that same blood red nail to flick the very tip of his cock as hard as she could just exactly as if she was flicking a bothersome fly from where it landed. Instantly pain shot up his cock, through his balls and straight up his spine. His whole body convulsed with anguish, but he could tell right away that her action had the desired effect, for he went instantly limp. It was all he could do not to grasp his manhood protectively and double over in pain. As it was he whimpered like a little girl, complete with high-pitched squeal and falsetto whine.

"There, there, baby. That's what I like to hear. And look, it's all gone now, back to sleep until I want to use it later."

She patted his bare ass and told him to pull up his pretty panties and join her at the table for supper.

The evening was agonizing, just like every one before it. He tried to avoid seeing the peaks of her ample breasts as she leaned over him to serve his plate or the curve of her behind as she bent to pick the dishtowel from the floor. As he sat beside her on the couch watching television, he made every attempt not to see her shapely legs crossed beside him or the skin of her thigh where her skirt hiked up when she sat. But worst of all was her hand on his leg just inches below his once again engorged erection.

When she turned the TV off at only eight o'clock, he knew what sweet torture he was in for next, and his cock wept for joy though he cringed inside.

"Go to the bedroom, baby. I will be right there."

He did as she requested and removed his briefs then lay down on the bed to wait. Finally he watched her enter the room with a small tray covered by a linen napkin with unidentifiable bumps underneath.

"I see you're all ready to give me what I need, aren't you my good boy?"

"Always. You make me so hard," he confessed.

She glanced at the beautiful piece of flesh as it strained upright and fell heavily against his belly. Smiling she said, more to herself than anything, "Oh, does Momma got plans for you, big boy."

One of the few pleasures he had in this scenario was watching her undress. She did so slowly and sensuously until her flesh was completely revealed to him and she was gloriously naked.

"Hands on the headboard," she ordered and his fists wrapped around the slats, squeezing the way he wanted to be squeezing his cock.

Without any pomp and circumstance she climbed atop him facing his feet and lowered her wet sheath slowly down his length.

"Oh God!" he cried at the blessed almost-relief it was to be buried inside her.

"God, indeed," she breathed and began to ride him up and down.

He watched the roundness of her cheeks as they rose and fell above him, seeing himself revealed and then concealed over and over again before she slid off him. But she replaced herself upon him once more facing him and propping her hands on his chest. This time he watched her glorious breasts bounce and sway like soft, fleshy pendulums that hypnotized him into a near coma of ecstasy.

"I'm gonna come, baby. Oh, your big cock is making me feel so good."

Panic seized him. If she clamped down on him mid-orgasm then he wouldn't be able to stop himself. He would fall with her and then he would cancel out all the days he'd built up to this point. She would start over tomorrow with one and then he would be so very far away from his goal.

"No! No, please! I can't stop!" he begged her. But just before her orgasm burst upon her she reached under the cloth and pulled out the most evil nipple clamps they owned. They weren't sexy or sensuous. They were devices of torture meant to inflict pain, which they did quite well.

She placed them on his tiny taut nipples, and he hissed in pain. But it was that metal bite into his flesh that brought him back from the brink just enough that he didn't lose it and could merely watch while she took her pleasure on his body. It was a sight to behold, and he never thought she was more beautiful than when bliss overtook her face.

He knew her well enough to know she wasn't finished with him yet. When she reached beneath the cloth again and pulled out a bottle of lube, he was proven correct. Pouring the warmed oily moisture over his cock and pumping it furiously until he was at the brink again. "Please, please, please don't do this!" he begged again while his traitorous hips thrust up into her warm, wet hands.

"Is my bad boy gonna come? You going to shoot your load all over everywhere and let me start all over again?"

"No! No, I won't." He grit his teeth and thought about anything to bring him back from the edge of this insanity.

Though she never stopped stroking his cock, she used her free hand to pull up on his legs. "Feet in the air, my naughty boy. I've got a lot more fucking I want to do on this beautiful cock of yours, and you're not going to make it if I don't help you."

"Thank you. Thank you!" he breathed, wanting anything than to start this torture anew. Raising his legs in the air he touched his toes to the headboard with no more thought in his head of what she would do because of the still pumping, squeezing warmth on his cock.

Therefore he took no notice when she reached under the cloth again and withdrew her most evil and simplest device of torture. Quickly she slipped the whole thing in her mouth wetting it all over so as not to have it catch on any tender skin. But with equal speed she removed it again and thrust it inside his tightly puckered entrance.

"GAAAAAHHHH!" he cried out and nearly sent her tumbling to the ground as his legs came flying down. The shock of sensation as the ice disappeared inside him caused the wilting and shrinkage she intended, however.

When he had gathered his wits about him again - though he shivered from the intense cold radiating from inside his ass - she crawled up the bed on her hands and knees and demanded, "Now, be a good boy and fuck my ass real good. Make me come on that beautiful cock."

His whole body shook for multiple reasons as he climbed up behind her and sunk his well lubed manhood to the hilt inside her.

"Oh fuck, that's good, baby," she moaned, but he was done playing around. The game was becoming much too agonizing.

The pace he picked up was fast and furious, and he pounded her flesh until she fell face first into the comforter, unable to withstand his onslaught upright. She pressed back with her palms against the headboard to protect her head from being rammed right through the wood. His hands worked their magic beneath her on her nipples and her clit until she came in a screaming fiery rage not once but twice.

When she could take no more and lay limply beneath him, the shock of the ice had gone, and he was too close to the edge once more. "Please," he whimpered as he slipped out of her.

Though her muscles shook and a tiredness all the way to her bones threatened to overtake her, she turned as quickly as she could, ignoring the soreness in her poor abused entrance. She would relish that little reminder for several days to come.

But now she focused on the glistening, weeping, straining piece of flesh in front of her, and she once again inflicted the torturous trick she had performed when he stood before her in the living room. Pain coursed through him once more, but his flesh did not respond so quickly or so completely. Only half limp but still in as much pain as before, he closed his eyes and waited for her to just do what she was going to do already.

He heard the jangling of the keys and the metal clink of the cock cage. Still half hard he cried out again in anguish as she closed the tormenting device around his flesh. The metal barbs inside poked him mercilessly, but his flesh would not relent.

He knew this was coming. This moment right here was what he had dreaded telling her, asking her for, when he sat in the car before ever entering the house. But he couldn't deny his need any more.

"Please, I need…" but courage failed him as he thought about the pain that it would cause.

_How could it be any worse than now?_ he wondered, and so he forced himself to say the words.

"Please, would you…" He gulped. "Would you milk me? I have to have some sort of relief."

She looked up into his eyes which he'd only just opened to look down at her.

All pretense gone she asked him, "Are you sure, baby?"

"Please." It was a pathetic strangled cry.

She nodded her head and motioned for him to assume the position. He turned with his knees on the edge of the bed, bent elbows on the comforter and forehead resting on his clasped hands. His spread thighs brought his cheeks apart. He didn't pay any attention to the sounds in the room, just trusting her to do what was necessary to give him what he'd asked for.

The cooling lube dripping down his crack didn't even make him flinch. Neither did the specially shaped massager that she finally pushed past his ring of muscles and moved around inside him. The only reaction she got out of him was when she hit the spot she was aiming for – his prostrate – and began milking it with a rocking pressing motion.

Though the stimulation caused the blood to rush to his groin, the painful protrusions inside the cock cage kept him from rising to full mast, and so the pleasure was completely removed from the process. And still she milked him.

Minutes passed in silence until he began to groan pitifully once more. Silently she slid a hand towel beneath him and watched as the milky white substance dribbled from his pathetically entrapped flesh.

"Oh. Oooooh. Ooowww," he moaned as his balls emptied their pent-up frustration through his miserably restrained cock. And still she milked him.

When the final drop had dripped and she was confident that all pressure was relieved in his now very limp dick, she removed the instrument from inside him and took it and the towel away. She returned to find him lying on his back on their bed, eyes closed, nearly asleep.

She climbed into bed beside him and pulled the covers over them both, snuggling down beside him. He wrapped his arm around her, squeezed his beloved wife tightly and kissed the top of her head sweetly.

Darkness and silence fell around them. She was nearly asleep when she heard her name called in the blackness of night.

"Esme?"

"Yes, Carlisle, my love." She kissed his chest and nuzzled him affectionately.

"You know payback's a bitch, right?"

Though unseen by each other in the darkness, their smiles matched none-the-less.

"I know."


End file.
